#Poetry:”Cynism”.

Cynicism,

it’s a lie.

Humans, they hide behind it,

when they have no answers.

The feelings,

I’m often alone

considered as something passing.

And instead…

But they are things that remain.

This is cynicism:

false indifference,

when we can’t live as we would like,

when reality crushes us,

hopeless.

Sometimes I wonder,

if it’s really the place,

where I was born, the problem,

or if it’s me,

I’m looking for scapegoats.

 

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After all, I am an expert,

since I am the first goat.

And it is refusing,

these things,

that I feel without cynicism,

but only a void.

I understand that much of what has been said,

it’s useless, garbage.

That many people only half understood,

or not at all.

I would just like to live,

as I want,

since, by now I know,

that “cynicism” and “rationality”,

they are nothing but shields.

Shields for those who do not want to hear,

for those who have no explanation,

for those who do not live,

as you would like.

Cynicism,

a false mask.

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